the Holy Land. So I already have a man in mind—the Archbishop of Monreale.” Richard grinned then, for he enjoyed catching others by surprise. “During our negotiations over Messina, he impressed me with his intelligence and integrity. He has taken the cross, too, unlike so many of his fellow prelates who were loath to give up the comforts of home. The Canterbury monks are as stubborn as mules, so they might well balk at electing one they consider a foreigner. But I’ll soon—” Breaking off suddenly, he reined in his horse. “What is happening up ahead?”
The road was blocked, men on horseback milling about, others dismounted, all of them watching a bohort, an informal tournament taking place in an adjacent field. Some of the bystanders were English, but most were French, and they were laughing and shouting rude advice as knights engaged one another with long reeds called sugar canes by the Sicilians. At the sight of his wife’s uncle, Jaufre swung his mount around to greet the English king. “We came upon a peasant taking his canes to market,” he said, pointing toward an elderly farmer; holding the reins of his donkey, he was watching with bemusement as these foreigners wielded his canes like lances. He did not seem indignant, but Richard still asked if he’d been paid for his crop, for he wanted no more trouble with the townspeople during the remainder of their stay.
“We kept handing over coins until he smiled,” Jaufre assured Richard, for Philippe was just as adamant that the Messinians not be cheated. “Why not join in, my liege? We have more than enough canes. Unless of course your men fear defeat?”
The challenge was good-natured, given with a grin, and Richard saw that his knights were eager to accept it. “Go on,” he said indulgently, and most of them quickly dismounted, squabbling with one another over the longest, sturdiest canes. Richard had no interest in joining them, for he had no need to hone his own skills and dismissed tournaments as mere rehearsals for the real event. But then the young Mathieu de Montmorency noticed the new arrivals.
“My lord king,” he cried out gleefully, “you are just in time! Surely you are not going to pass up a chance to knock a French knight on his arse? You can have my own cane to smite them!”
Mathieu offered it then with a dramatic flourish, and to the surprise of Richard’s men, he reached out and took it. They knew Richard deliberately encouraged the boy’s hero worship because it obviously annoyed Philippe. But they knew, too, his indifference to tourneys. “He must be as just as bored as we are,” André murmured to Morgan. As he followed the direction of Richard’s gaze, though, he drew a sharp breath. “Ballocks!”
Morgan and Baldwin looked, too, saw nothing out of the ordinary. When they turned questioningly to him, André said softly, “There’s the reason for his sudden interest, the man on that bay stallion—Guillaume des Barres.”
They both knew of the French knight, of course, for he was almost as celebrated for his martial skills as William Marshal. It made sense to them that Richard should want to test himself against such a worthy foe, and they saw no cause for concern; it was only a bohort, after all. But then André quietly told them of Richard’s history with the other man.
“It happened the year ere the old king died. Richard had not yet forged an alliance with Philippe, and when he got word that the French king was at Mantes, he made a raid into the surrounding countryside. There was a skirmish with the French and he captured Guillaume des Barres. Because he was a knight, Richard accepted his pledge, and continued the fight. But des Barres broke his parole and escaped by stealing a sumpter horse.”
Seeing their surprise, André shrugged. “I do not know why he dishonored himself like that. Mayhap he acted impulsively when he saw a chance to flee. Mayhap he feared he’d not be able to pay the ransom Richard would demand. I can only tell you that Richard was outraged when he learned of it and has borne des Barres a grudge ever since.”
Baldwin and Morgan agreed that Richard had a legitimate grievance. They did not share André’s unease, though, for when had a man ever been run through with a sugar cane? And surely des Barres would have the sense to keep out of Richard’s way.
Now that there was to be a French–English